


Falling, Catching

by ShippersList



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Style, Happy Ending, Inspired by Stardust, M/M, Magical Realism, POV Tony Stark, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, star tony, tribal chief Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24019627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/pseuds/ShippersList
Summary: Stars aren’t supposed to meddle with the human world. It’s messy, noisy, filthy, and rushed, the humans like specks of dust in their short, short lives. Stars are supposed to keep in the skies, watch over the vast expanses of space, look after the newborn stars, and take care of the elderly who are about to fade away.Antymion isn’t like other stars.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 41
Kudos: 174
Collections: Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2020





	Falling, Catching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Starlight [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304762) by [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/pseuds/Cachette). 



> Thanks to my betas, [athletiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athletiger) and [Naoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naoe). And thanks to Cachette for being such an absolute delight to work with. Again.
> 
> Title by Agnes Obel.

It starts as a whisper.

_Please…let them live. I’m not important but my family, my people…let them live. Please._

For a long time, the plea swirls around as a solemn song breathed into the space between stars, something unbearably sad about it. It dances in silver tendrils, fragile and vulnerable, reaching out for someone, anyone to listen, to _hear_ before it’s too late.

In an instant, it’s gone and nothing remains but an echo of a memory.

However, every story needs a beginning.

And this how our story begins.

* * *

Antymion—or Tony, as he likes to call himself to Father’s eternal frustration—sways lazily in his hammock, gazing into the mist full of protostars. He’s on nursery duty and he’s bored out of his immense mind. Father says it grows character but, as usual, Father doesn’t know what he’s talking about because Father lost the idea of how to have fun eons ago. But Antymion— _Tony_ —still wants to have fun and he wants to see things and learn things and _explore_ , but Father said no.

So, here he is. Watching the protostars play catch in the nebulae, giggling bursts of bright blue sparkles and creating small avalanches of rolling mist that Tony reels back in with a flick of his wrist and a deep sigh. It’s not that he doesn’t like the younglings, far from it. He loves their brightness and the way their forms change in an instant, the way how they hold all the potential to _become_ while holding on to the childlike joy of just existing. Sometimes, he wishes he could remember how that feels.

He lost that wonderment long ago, mostly because he grew too accustomed to his surroundings.

The universe is a vast place of wonders: different stars, different nebulae, different galaxies filled with things he’s never met before. He’d love nothing more than to travel, to go on an adventure and fill his mind with new experiences—anything to not be bored. He knows he has time; stars live long lives and, after they’ve grown into the form of their choosing, they have several millennia to do whatever they want to before it’s their time to settle down and stabilize themselves.

Tony doesn’t want that.

So, when he leans back down in his hammock and raises his gaze up toward the Vergenian nebula, he lets out a long breath that blows away the residual mist still clinging to his fingers and—something tickles him.

It’s an echo.

Tony cocks his head and frowns. Seeing echoes isn’t that uncommon but such a faint one shouldn’t be able to stay together this long, let alone touch him. Slowly, he reaches out with his hand and lets the echo land on his palm and then cups his other hand over it. He brings the echo closer, examines the shape and feel of it, marvels at the way it shines even after such a long journey across space. He mutters a soft word, coaxes more life to it, raises it to his ear—and his eyes go wide.

Humans!

They are soft, small, fragile things who live such a short time that the stars hardly notice generations passing. And why would they? Compared to humans, stars are immense and immortal, while, compared to stars, humans are barely specks of dust in the winds of time.

Stars aren’t supposed to meddle with the human world. It’s messy, noisy, filthy, and rushed, the humans barely a disturbance in their short, short lives. Stars are supposed to keep to the skies, watch over the vast expanses of space; to look after the newborn stars and take care of the elderly who are about to fade away.

But Tony has always been curious and even now, his curiosity flares in his chest, burning almost as bright as the Starlight in his pendant. He raises the plea to his ear once more, closes his eyes, and listens, burning the words and the cadenza of the human’s voice in his mind. The echo fades away soon after, its power extinguished now that it’s been heard but the plea—the intent—stays with Tony. He cradles it within himself, waits impatiently for his nursery duty to end, and then—

Then, he races across the skies like a shooting star, heading straight to the strange planet where the plea came from.

Because that’s how this story goes. A plea was sent to the stars.

And a star heard it.

And now, that star is on his way.

* * *

On his way, he greets the stars he passes, helps some to correct their trajectories and spinning cycles, and takes messages to distant relatives. The plea traveled quite a long way so Tony has more than an ample chance to socialize and exchange pleasantries with distant relatives he hasn’t seen in a long time. He spends a rather tedious period with Mother’s great-great-great-great-great uncle and nearly rips out half of his hair out of sheer frustration. Why do elderly stars have to turn so… _dull?_ They’ve seen so much, so shouldn’t they burn all the brighter? One would think all the excitement would quicken their lives instead of dimming them but…perhaps that’s just the difference between him and the other stars?

”Remember your place,” Father had said more than once. ”You are my heir. Act accordingly.”

But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to spend his time trapped in the bright, shining chambers of the inner Nexus, spending countless eons ruling over galaxies and plotting collision courses with other spirals to create even bigger galaxies. What’s the point in that? He doesn’t want to rule; he wants to create!

He wants to live.

When he finally nears his destination, the plea grows warm in his chest, tugging him on. The planet grows bigger as he gets closer, a strange sphere of purples and oranges speckled with blue, green, and white. It’s orbiting two of his distant cousins several times removed, twin sisters who are quite sweet and gentle. He gives them as polite a greeting as his haste allows and hopes he doesn’t offend them with his curt manners before plummeting down.

The star-dotted deep blue of space changes into purple-shaded clouds and then a red-hued glow as he descends, and when he finally hits the ground in a soft billow of sand, he’s bathed in the hot, bright light of his twin cousins rising above the horizon. The air is clear and the sky is purple and it’s all so… _new._ Tony squints up and grins, laughs out loud at all the strange sensations dancing along his form. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, savors the slightly brittle feel of dust in the back of his throat. It’s delightful. Everything is delightful.

The plea tugs him forward and he follows its lead, absent-mindedly turning his Starlight pendant around and cloaking his form in his cape so that only a slight shimmering remains. His feet leave no trace on the sand as he walks onward along a ridge that once grew an orchard but now holds only dry husks of leafless trees. He travels past barren fields and a dried-up river, takes in the yellow-brown color of the grass and the cloudless sky, and wonders how hot the twin sisters’ light feels. Is it just the novelty of his form in this place or does the light burn on everything on the planet?

He comes upon the settlement almost by accident, a humble gathering of tents nestled under the only living trees he’s seen so far. The bright banners flap in the hot wind that blows dust around them like it’s dancing, asking the occupants to come out and play. It’s still early morning but already several people are on the move: children running around, adults tending to animals, making breakfast, and hauling large cylinders from tent to tent. He watches, curious, as a big man with blond hair and tattoos around his arms carefully pours—oh, it’s water!

Fascinated, Tony watches as the man with tattoos around his arms goes from tent to tent, ever careful, ever patient, ever wearing the same, sad smile.

There’s not much water for each tent.

The plea in his chest lets out something like a sorrowful sigh. Tony cocks his head, looks around and understands.

The planet is beautiful, filled with bright light from two stars—suns, as humans call them—but it’s too much, too bright, too harsh.

The planet is beautiful and it’s dying.

Unsure of what to do, Tony looks up to the clear skies, opens his arms, and shoots up.

Down by the tents, the blond man with tattoos around his arms turns sharply around, staring at an empty spot that, for a moment, seemed to shimmer like a star.

* * *

If we’re being truthful, nothing has ever been able to hold Antymion’s interest for long. His mind moves quickly and he grows easily bored even with the most advanced puzzles his tutors try to entertain him with. But something about this puzzle—the plea, the planet, and the humans—troubles him. Something about the blond man with tattoos around his arms seemed to radiate love around him, almost like his concern and care were a cape wrapped over the cluster of tents, protecting them and keeping them safe. But he was just a human, he couldn’t protect his people from the power of stars.

But perhaps Tony could.

He grows so preoccupied with his problem that Father takes notice—if only to misunderstand it for his growing more responsible and finally settling down. Tony doesn’t bother correcting him that he’s stopped complaining about the nursery duty because it gives him ample time to plan his next visit to the planet. Instead, he draws plans and spins shimmering shawls for his elderly cousins and, as soon as he can, speeds back to the planet.

He starts small: appeasing the twin sisters with his delicate, gorgeous gifts to turn down their Starlight, not much but enough that the planet could enjoy the warmth but not die under the heat. The sisters give him a considering look that almost makes his Starlight turn pink but they acquiesce, stretch like they’ve been straining themselves too long and settle back with a contented hum that reverberates through the skies. Tony thanks them and heads down.

He lands next to a dried-up spring and sings to it softly, gently encouraging it to run free again. The water is hesitant at first because it remembers how it had shriveled up under the harsh blaring heat but Tony promises it things would be different now.

”Look,” he says and glances up. ”I’ve asked them to be gentler. Just give it a try, okay? I promise it will be better than last time, trust me.”

The water listens, believes him, and starts to run free once more.

And that’s how it begins.

* * *

Antymion visits the planet as often as he can. He persuades the grass to grow, promises the dried-up orchards they won’t die this time, stands by a cow giving birth just to breathe the tiniest speck of his Starlight into the newborn calf so that it would grow strong and tenacious to serve the tribe to its best abilities. He walks the banks of the river and murmurs soft words of encouragement to the fish so they would multiply and feed the people living nearby.

And every single time, he ends up sitting by the ridge, watching the tent village go about their day and the blond man with tattoos around his arms smiling wider and brighter as the days go by and his people get stronger. There’s something immensely satisfying in staying still and watching his efforts take root—literally—and spread, to help and nourish the people who had been so desperate only some short moons before.

It doesn’t take long for him to start sneaking closer. He tells himself it’s because it allows him to learn more and observe the tribe more carefully but soon, the only villager he’s watching is the blond man with tattoos around his arms. He’s mesmerized by the man, enchanted even, and he wants to get even closer still, to know him and—

Tony gasps and stands up so swiftly his cloak rips but he doesn’t notice it, just shoots up, away from this planet that makes his mind swirl and his heart beat faster, away from the blond man with tattoos around his arms who he wants to _touch._

He doesn’t see the blond man standing just a short distance away, staring wide-eyed at the spot where moments before had been just slight shimmering of starlight, then a quick flash of something—no, some _one_ standing right there...and now, there’s a piece of that shimmering starlight left behind.

The blond man with tattoos around his arms walks slowly closer and picks up a piece of shimmering cloth. It’s cool and slippery and so very, very soft in his hands, twinkling gently like the stars he’s been wishing upon since the great drought began. He folds the cloth carefully and tucks it into his belt pouch.

He doesn’t know what he’s picked up but he knows it’s important.

* * *

You might not know this but stars…they don’t love like humans. Humans love like they live: in a burst of feeling that’s gone almost as soon as it began, almost violent in its utter futility. Stars, on the other hand, plan carefully for their unions. They need negotiations and careful consideration to avoid massive collateral damage and, since stars tend to be more solitary creatures than humans, treading carefully isn’t usually an issue.

Usually.

See, there have been…incidents.

Because it’s dangerous for stars to fall in love like humans. They don’t think before they act and they burn too bright, their combined light turning the skies white when they come together only to crumble upon themselves as their passion grows too strong, leaving behind only black void where no light can escape from.

We all know what happened to Mathos and Elektra, don’t we?

But even more dangerous is for a star to fall for a human because that love has no future, not even in the emptiness of two collapsed stars.

So, when Tony realizes he wants to _touch_ , he knows he’s in trouble.

* * *

”I was afraid you wouldn’t come back,” the blond man with tattoos around his arms says quietly. He stands by the shade of a large tree bearing blue-striped fruits, reaches up, and picks one, not looking at Tony. ”But I’m glad you did.”

Tony is amazed beyond words. How can the man even see Tony? He’s wrapped in his cloak, he shouldn’t be visible to the human eye. And yet, when the man turns, he looks unerringly at Tony, as if the cloak wasn’t there and Tony was completely visible for anyone to see.

”You know when I started getting suspicious?” The man asks with a slight smile. ”It wasn’t the river that started to run again after years of drought or the greenest grass I’ve ever seen suddenly sprouting up for our animals to graze. It wasn’t even this old orchard coming back to life with fruit my mother told me about.” He takes a step forward. ”No, it was when I stopped seeing the strangest shimmer right here by the ridge overlooking my people.”

Tony bites his lip and makes a rash decision he’s sure Father would loudly protest to but, since Father isn’t here, he’s free to do as he pleases. He takes a deep breath and slowly, carefully, lowers the hood of his cloak.

”How did you know where to look?” He asks, genuinely curious.

The man’s eyes go wide and he breathes sharply in which is an interesting reaction Tony will contemplate later.

”Um, I didn’t at first,” he says and shrugs. ”I thought you were a mirage. But then you started appearing more and more often and in places where mirages shouldn’t appear. And then, of course, this.” He picks something carefully from his belt pouch and holds it out to Tony. When he doesn’t react, the man nods, sets it on the ground, and takes several steps back.

It’s a piece of Tony’s cloak.

”I found it on the ground the last time I saw you. Or, well, that was the last time I saw the way you shimmer but it was the first time I saw you were something else as well.”

When Tony still stays silent, the man rubs the back of his head, slightly awkward, and glances at his people going about their day. He misses the way Tony’s eyes track the movement and the ripple of the tattoos around his arm.

”Look, I— I just wanted to say thank you. I don’t know who or what you are but you saved my tribe.”

”Good,” Tony says and the man looks up. ”I mean, it would’ve been an awful waste to let all of you starve, right?”

”Indeed,” the man says with a bright grin that leaves Tony slightly breathless. ”I’m Steven.”

”My name is Antymion, although I prefer to be called Tony,” he answers with a grin of his own.

He neither picks up the ripped piece of his cloak nor says anything when Steven gathers it and carefully places it back to his belt pouch.

* * *

It is an unusual friendship, that of a star and a man, but they fit well together. Tony soon finds out that Steven has a quick mind and even quicker tongue, and Steven revels in every story Tony tells him. He never asks how Tony knows so much about distant lands he’s never even heard about or where his strange cloak comes from. Tony bathes in his attention and in the chance to be just him, just Tony, and not the heir to the Nexus of a spiral galaxy far, far away. They sit under the old tree and talk for ages, and with every passing moment, with every peal of laughter, Tony’s Starlight pulses under his tunic and its light seeps slowly into the land he sits on.

When he sees butterflies for the first time, all he can do is stare in awe. They flutter around them like small specks of stardust, fragile and beautiful.

”They are _Papilio,_ ” Steven says softly. ”They live for two weeks and then they’re gone. I haven’t seen them since I was a child.”

”Doesn’t that make you sad?” Tony asks. ”Such beauty for such a short time.”

Steven cocks his head. ”No,” he says easily. ”They live their lives, oblivious to what’s going on around them. Why should they bother themselves with the trivialities of our lives? It doesn’t matter to them. Besides,” he says and glances at Tony from the corner of his eye, ”does the length of one’s life equal happiness? I’d say it’s more about the quality of life than the span of it.”

”Hm,” Tony says and leans back against the trunk of the old tree. He feels the life thrum under its bark and it makes him happy.

* * *

They kiss for the first time under that same old tree. Tony has flowers in his hair and the tattoos around Steven’s arms are _alive_ , and it’s the most content Tony has ever felt.

* * *

But stories wouldn’t be stories if everything went always well, would they?

Tony’s good mood hasn’t gone unnoticed and neither has his absence. Father’s old friend and trusted advisory, Obadias, sees an opportunity and seizes it. He whispers questions and doubts, wonders what urgent business the heir has that keeps him away from his home for such long spans of time. He acts shocked when Father asks bluntly if he needs to be worried about the integrity of the Nexus. But he makes Father troubled and that’s exactly what he wants. Because Obadias covets and Antymion, the uppity heir who doesn’t appreciate the position he has, is an obstacle to get rid of.

And back on the purple-and-orange planet, Steven’s good fortune is too much for people whose hearts have dried up and turned to brittle dust under the harsh suns. The worst of the kind is a rival chief, Alexander, a proud, haughty man with a large tribe and arrogant ways. He loathes Steven’s life, how easy it seems, and how gently Steven treats his people. To Alexander, kindness is weakness and the way Steven offers away valuable assets like water, grazing land, and fruits makes him the weakest chief Alexander has ever heard of. And the riches of his land? Oh, Alexander wants them all. So, he decides to go to war because black-hearted men like him don’t understand any other way.

But in stories, there’s always a way, no matter how bleak the future seems.

* * *

”What are you doing in my quarters?” Tony asks, surprised and suspicious. Obadias hasn’t been in his private space in eons, not since Mother faded away. To have him here, now, grates his nerves in an unpleasant way.

”Antymion, Antymion, Antymion,” Obadias sighs and shakes his head. ”You had such potential, you know?”

”Had?” He can’t help but quip back. ”I wasn’t aware I’d lost it.”

Obadias gives him a calculating look from the corner of his eye and Tony doesn’t like it one bit. ”You didn’t answer me. What are you doing here?” He repeats, turning in tune with the older star who prowls the room like an unstable comet, unpredictable and dangerous.

”You’re out of control, Antymion,” he says. ”You’re the heir of this Nexus but you don’t bother acting like one. Until you do, you’ll be sequestered in your quarters.”

”Oh, I will?”

 _”Yes,”_ Obadias says and with lightning speed, shoots across the room and yanks Tony’s Starlight from his neck.

The surprise and pain force him on his knees, gasping for breath as his world tilts on its axis. See, stars _need_ their Starlight. It’s their power source, their lifeline, their very essence without which they’ll eventually fade away.

”You’re not worthy of this power,” Obadias hisses at his face, holding the pendant in front of Tony’s face. It seems to almost reach out for him but there’s nothing Tony can do, the shock of its violent removal still rendering him helpless. ”Let’s see how cocky you’ll be without it, huh?” Without further ado, he tucks Tony’s pendant in his pocket and marches out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Through the static hum in his ears, Tony hears the lock turn, making him a prisoner in his own quarters. It doesn’t matter, though, because the more important thing is that his Starlight is gone. Obadias stole his Starlight. It’s unthinkable—touching another’s Starlight is strictly forbidden and a violation of the highest degree.

In doing so, Obadias has broken one of the fundamental laws of the Star Community.

If he’s ready to do that, what else is he willing to do?

”Get up,” he croaks. ”You have to get up, Tony.” He swallows and gasps for breath, grits his teeth. _”Get. Up,”_ he snarls and forces himself up to his feet, feeling like an untried youngling, his first time out of the nebula. He has to— he has to move, has to act quickly, has to get away from the Nexus. He has to get to Steven. Steven is safe.

His vision blurs on the edges as he lurches across the room and to the small indent on the wall. It’s one of his secret stashes, one of the many across the Nexus. He thanks the skies for the quirk of thought that made him hide his old Starlight in one of his many puzzle boxes instead of merging it with his new Starlight as is the tradition. It isn’t as strong as the one Obadias stole but it will be enough to get him to Steven. It has to be.

He doesn’t have time for elaborate plans. He doesn’t have time to say goodbye to his friends. He doesn’t have time for anything else but to mix up a hasty concoction of whatever supplies he’s hidden around his quarters (which still is more than enough to blast a hole to the outer wall), and then he _flies._ He’s sure Obadias will come after him as soon as he realizes he’s gone but he can’t think about that now. He flies as fast as he can, burning bright across the skies, ignoring everyone and everything around him.

The betrayal stings. Of course it does. For countless millennia, Obadias was like a father to him: funny, kind, attentive. He always had time for Tony and his antics and never failed to burst out in laughter when Tony told him a joke. He has no idea when it all changed—was it before or after the plea? Or was this always the plan, to rip Tony’s Starlight away? But for what? To take over the Nexus?

He’s almost reached the purple-and-orange planet when he hears Obadias’ bellow.

”Where do you think you’re going, Antymion? You can’t outrun us!”

He doesn’t turn to look, doesn’t answer, just pushes forward, _more, faster, please,_ and barely manages to avoid capture. He feels the cold brush of Obadias’ claws on his foot and kicks, flails, _refuses_ to be caught. It works but it also throws off his trajectory, sending him crashing toward the planet in a dizzying spiral.

He’s a falling star and he’s coming home.

* * *

There’s a battle going on in the field near Steven’s tribe, a terrible, bloody battle that has claimed dozens of lives already and painted the field red and slick. Because unknown to Tony, Alexander—the envious, black-hearted rival chief—had made his move and attacked Steven’s tribe. The fight has gone on for some time now and to Steven’s horror, Alexander’s tribe is slowly gaining ground. They might not be as well-fed as Steven’s people but they’ve been driven to the brink of madness with cruel words and violent leadership and they know they have only one choice: to die. And no matter how fiercely loyal and protective Steven is of his people, he alone cannot win against them.

Suddenly, a blinding bright light falls from the sky with a rumble of thunder and lightning and crashes to the ground with a mighty sound. The shockwave throws everyone flat on the ground, friends and enemies alike, leaving their ears ringing and dark spots dancing in their eyes. It takes them a moment to gather their bearing and slowly clamber up, only to see a man standing in the middle of the field. His hair is a wild nest of dark curls and he’s clad in flowing robes the color of a setting sun and both his eyes and a pendant on his chest shine with what looks like starlight.

”Tony?” Steven breathes out as he pushes to his feet. He smiles for a moment and then his face goes slack with fear. ”Tony? Tony, look out!” His whisper rises into a shout as a hulking, bloody figure stands up from behind Tony.

It’s Alexander, who now sees his chance to get rid of Steven once and for all. Because he was never aiming at Tony, he’s aiming at Steven who announced himself clearly and is now standing up, vulnerable and without a cover. Alexander throws his spear and it flies true, hitting Steven in the chest.

 _”No!”_ Tony gasps as he sees Steven falter and slowly fall to his knees. ”NO!” He shouts, ”No, Steven, not like this!”In a flash, he’s on Steven’s side, hand on his chest, trying and failing to stall the blood pouring out.

”Tony,” Steven whispers and raises his hand to cup Tony’s cheek.

”Don’t you dare go like this,” Tony snarls. ”I won’t allow it.”

”It’s okay,” Steven says and smiles through the red, red blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Then his eyes go wide and he lets out a scared sound but before Tony can ask what’s wrong, a strong hand grips his hair and yanks him away from Steven.

”And what are you?” Alexander purrs, bending to look at him. His eyes are dark with want and his breath is vile on Tony’s face. ”Are you the one behind the riches of this land, huh?”

”That’s none of your concern,” Tony spits.

Alexander’s mouth curls into a cruel smile. ”Oh, it’s all my concern,” he hisses, reaching out for the Starlight pendant. ”And I guess it’s all because of this shiny thing around your—”

He never has the chance of finishing his sentence because, in a brilliant halo that makes even Tony blink rapidly, Alexander is incinerated at the spot.

”Starlights aren’t for humans,” Obadias sneers, brushing off imaginary speckles of ash from his cape. Behind him, Tony spies familiar faces of the Nexus elite Star Guard, watching impassively at the carnage around them. ”Aren’t for you, either. Didn’t I relieve you of yours already?”

”You tried,” Tony says, eyeing him warily as he inches closer to Steven. He’s still alive but his breathing is labored and a wet wheeze accompanies his every breath. Tony doesn’t like it.

”Oh, Antymion, you really should know better,” Obadias sighs. ”What are you doing here anyway, playing with these…” he takes a withering look around before leveling Tony with a disappointed look, ”…creatures? Isn’t it time for you to come home?”

Tony curls his lip. ”Why? So that you could steal this Starlight too and lock me up for my own good? Isn’t that how you’ve been trying to sell it to Father?”

Obadias’ face darkens at the shocked murmur from the Star Guard around him. ”Antymion, stop with this nonsense at once.”

As interesting as the reaction from the Guard was, Tony decides he can wait for no longer. He yanks the pendant from his neck and slams it on Steven’s chest, ignoring his pained whimper for the moment. ”For the last time, my name is Tony!” He snarls, closes his eyes, and _wills._

See, as we know, Starlight is the very essence of a star. And stars, as is commonly known, are magic.

And magic is capable of many great things, especially when combined with love.

The Starlight pendant powers up with a low, humming whine. It crackles under Tony’s hand and snakes along his arm like a lightning set free, filling his nose with the smell of a burning star. It pours from his hand into his chest and his heart, seeping into every celestial molecule of his body until he’s brimming with it. Distantly, he hears Obadias’ yell something and someone else shouting ”Cover your eyes!” but neither means anything to him.

He is a Star and he Wills.

 _I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight,_ swims through his mind as he pushes his Will into Intent and Reality. The Starlight shines brighter and brighter, overflows from him to Steven and swallows his form in a brilliant cocoon, eating up the spear still sticking from his chest. Under his palm, Steven’s chest stutters but Tony _refuses_ it because _no._ Steven needs to live, he needs to be there for his people, for his tribe. For Tony.

His Will swells and vibrates, almost alive with all the things that have been and will be and might have been, and then, finally, it implodes, leaving Tony leaning heavily against Steven’s chest. The pendant in his hand is cracked and dark, the Starlight spent.

”Tony?”

Steven’s eyes are clouded with residual pain but he breathes freely.

”Hi,” Tony says with a small smile.

Steven’s hand finds his and for a long moment, they just hold on, breathing together. Finally, Steven slowly raises their joined hands and takes a look at what Tony is holding. His eyes go wide as he sees the pendant; while he might not know exactly what it is, he knows it’s not supposed to be dark.

”What did you do?” Steven whispers.

Tony shrugs. ”It was either you or the Starlight. To be honest, that wasn’t much of a choice.”

”But—”

”Did you really think I’d let you die?” Tony asks, suddenly furious. ” Just like that? Because if you did, you’d be way more stupid than I could ever imagine.”

Steven rolls his eyes and pushes himself to sit up, which just happens to bring him nose to nose with Tony, into a perfect kissing distance. So, Tony does exactly that, kisses him. It starts as a sweet apology but is well on its way to frantic when someone clears their throat behind him.

”In all honesty, this wasn’t what I was prepared to see when I was informed my son had run away and my trusted advisor had taken my elite Guard to pursue him,” Father says dryly.

Slowly Tony stands up and turns to face him. After the battle, several stars landing on the field, and Tony’s Starlight explosion, the field is charred black but Father still manages to stand there like he was in the Great Hall of the Nexus.

Refusing to cower, Tony holds his head high. ”And what are you going to do about it?” He challenges with a clear voice that rings through the field.

Behind him, Steven stands up as well and even though Tony tries to keep himself in between Father and Steven, they end up standing side by side. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Father. He turns his gaze to Steven who bears it, unflinching and proud even when Father’s eyes drop to the silver scar in the middle of his chest.

Finally, Father turns back to him and gives him a long, serious look. His eyes are sad but there’s a flicker of some emotion Tony cannot grasp. ”Are you sure this is what you want to do, Antymion?” Father asks.

Tony nods. ”Yeah, I’m sure. Father, I’m not even a star anymore. I gave all that away, for Steven, for this tribe. For this land.” He smiles and reaches out for Steven’s hand. ”This is my home now. This is where I belong.”

Father stays silent for a long time, gazing across the field into the valley and the orchards with a distant look in his eyes before he heaves a deep sigh. ”So be it,” he says. His voice is calm and it holds a heavy, final note that seems to resonate from him to the very earth he’s standing on. ”I wish you happiness, An— Tony, Steven.”

With a final nod, he looks up and as if carried by a great wind, both Father and the Star Guard are gone. Where they once stood, the charred remains of grass seem to shiver and then sigh before slowly turning from blackened to green once more. All around them, warriors from both Steven and Alexander’s tribe look around, confused and slightly lost, unsure of what to do next.

”You must be hungry and tired,” Steven calls out. ”Come with us and you can eat and rest.”

For a moment, everything stands still. Then, one by one, the rival tribesmen drop their weapons to the ground and they sway like a great weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. With a satisfied smile, Steven nods and starts planning how to best introduce the new people to his tribe.

And Tony?

He stands there for a moment, unmoving, looking up at the blue, blue sky. His twin cousins’ light is bright and stings his eyes in a new, slightly uncomfortable way, and when he drops his gaze, he has dark spots dancing in his field of vision for a good while. Under his feet, the brilliantly green grass sways gently and seems to almost reach out for him.

He lets out a long breath and looks to his side where Steven stands, waiting for him.

Time to go home.

* * *

And that’s what this story was all about.

A man wished upon a star and the star answered.

They might have moments of doubts and even share stinging words but they never regret the decisions they’ve made.

The man with a silver star-shaped scar on his chest would sometimes wake up early in the morning to gaze upon the fallen star sleeping peacefully beside him before gathering him in his arms, smiling at the way the star scrunched his nose in his sleep.

The fallen star would sometimes gaze up in the skies at night, a strange light in his eyes and a content smile on his lips before going home to kiss the man that was worth more than the Starlight that had brought him back to life.

And up in the sky, the old twin sisters would keep an eye on them both, wrapped in the shimmering shawls a peculiar star in love spun them. And if they report his happiness to a distant Father who never really knew how to tell his son how much he meant to him…well, that’s another story for another time.

The End.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Starlight [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304762) by [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/pseuds/Cachette)




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